A MEETING

by: Zona Gale (1874-1938)

      HEAR a sound like piping and like sails
      In silken talk with wind and like the speech
      Of someone quiet in the blue of dawn
      Upon a quiet beach.
       
      I see a light as when the last star
      Flowers faintly in the ashen morning sky
      And long wings appear and disappear,
      Wheeling by.
       
      I think of moons forgotten with their tides;
      I think of all the red of east and west;
      I hear the secret stir of nameless dead
      Conferring in my breast.
       
      You make me long for colour and for song
      And for old words on lips I did not know.
      You make me dream of all I learned to dream
      How long ago.

"A Meeting" is reprinted from The Secret Way. Zona Gale. New York: Macmillan Co., 1921.

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